for A.
When the wizard walked on water, flowing
over the falls, he must have felt like I
did holding you that day of my going
away. How heat rose as I watched your eyes
when you walked toward me, pushing close, your voice
soft as an ancient chant: “I have to go.”
Your arms enfolded me. I had no choice
but to kiss your cheek—gentle way to show
you how wizards fall in slowest motion
when overtaken by gravity, safe
in caress of mist, glorious ocean
of another’s care, like embracing wave
responding to some distant shore’s welcome,
or gliding clouds carrying angels home.
Roger Armbrust
March 27, 2006
